


You Fought My Flaws, My Teeth, My Claws With Love

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Malia Tate, Asexual Kira Yukimura, Clubbing, Dirty Dancing, F/F, F/M, Lacrosse Player Kira, Minor Isaac Lahey/Malia Tate, Minor Lydia Martin/Malia Tate, Minor Scott McCall/Malia Tate, Minor Vernon Boyd/Malia Tate, Nonbinary Liam Dunbar, Open Relationships, Past Stiles Stilinski/Malia Tate, Polyamorous Malia Tate, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, brief slut shaming language, grey-aromantic malia, malia/others sex scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6574249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Malia, the aromantic slut, falls for Kira, the adorable asexual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Fought My Flaws, My Teeth, My Claws With Love

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, I love the idea of Malia really struggling with understanding human emotions, especially romantic feelings, I think asexuality is very underrepresented, and I wanted to work on my porn-writing skills. Thus, this bad boy was born. Title from the [Christina Grimmie](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bRGOAeC_Vhg) song. If I'm missing any tags, please let me know.

So Malia likes sex. Sue her. She hates so many other things—math, economics, salad, _math_ —that it only makes sense that she fully embraces the things she loves. Many times. In as many positions as possible. Sometimes in empty classrooms during detention when Mr. Harris has gone to the bathroom.

The point is: sex comes easy to Malia in a way most other things don’t.

She’s reluctant at first. Sex sounds awkward, not to mention weird. Stiles wants to put his _what_ in her? But, after the first few fumbling attempts—“Ow, is it supposed to hurt?” “Is that your clit? No? What about here?”—Malia’s first orgasm rocks her world. Stiles has a dumb, smug look on his face for days. Nevertheless, Malia wipes it right off when she finds she can reduce Stiles to a quivering mess if she just rolls her hips the right way and sucks on his collarbone.

Then she and Stiles break up after a few months, but Malia doesn’t take it too hard. After all, it leaves her free to explore her newfound libido. Her grades take a hit the first couple weeks, Malia won’t lie. But it’s not her fault. How can Malia pay attention to her biology notes on the immune system when she could be learning what makes Scott moan and grip her hips hard enough to leave bruises? (Spoiler: it’s arching her back and holding herself open while Scott pounds into her.) How can Malia memorize SOHCAHTOA in trig when she prefers going down on Hayden until she squirts all over Malia’s lips? A girl’s only got so much self control.

The point is, academics will never be her strong point, but Malia is fairly positive she would get an A+ in sex. Too bad it’s not an actual class; her GPA could definitely use it.

* * *

Aromanticism doesn’t come up until after Malia thoroughly fucks Lydia’s brains out with her trusty dildo then sits on Lydia’s face and rubs her clit until come dribbles down Lydia’s chin. Malia tries her best not to collapse right then and there. She lets go of the headboard to roll over and flop down onto the satiny coverlet beside Lydia, chest heaving and thighs trembling.

Wiping at the sweat beading on her forehead, Malia grins. “That was fun.”

Lydia nods in agreement, swiping at the come sticking to her face.

“Dicked you so hard you’re speechless?” Malia throws Lydia a shit-eating grin.

“Hardly,” scoffs Lydia, though she sounds out of breath. “Just thinking.”

“If you can still think, then I didn’t do a good job.”

“Malia, do you ever wonder why you have sex with so many people? Not that it’s a bad thing or anything.”

Malia side-eyes her suspiciously, joking demeanor evaporating. “Because I like it and am good at it?”

“I’m not disagreeing, but then why not try a date or two and then graduate to sex?”

Malia shrugs, mouth thinning.

“At first, I thought all this was you coping with Stiles dumping you, but it’s been a year.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining when I made you come so hard you saw stars,” snaps Malia defensively. “If you hate that I love it so much, then—”

“Malia,” interrupts Lydia in a cool tone that brooks no argument. “I never said that. I don’t care if you sleep with everyone in Beacon Hills. If I gave a fuck, I wouldn’t keep seeing you. I just want to know why you haven’t even attempted dating.”

“Because I don’t want to,” Malia retorts petulantly. She doesn’t care if she sounds childish. “I haven’t found anyone I wanted to date.”

“Not since Stiles?”

“Even with Stiles, I didn’t feel that…” Malia gestures helplessly. “In love? I liked him alright, I guess. And, for the record, it was a mutual break up. Tell Stiles to stop telling people he dumped me.”

“You tell him yourself. Anyways, Malia, have you ever considered you might be aromantic?”

“No, but mostly because I don’t even know what that means.”

“Remember how I said genders are fluid and have a spectrum?” Lydia prompts patiently.

“Yeah, like when Liam came out as, uh…”

“Nonbinary. Correct. So, romantic orientation is a spectrum too. You have the majority of people who feel romantic attraction towards people. Like, I can look at someone and think to myself, ‘Hey, I want to date that person and kiss them and maybe marry them someday.’ And then there are other people who never look at a stranger and think that. Those are the aromantics. And then there are people who very rarely feel that romantic attraction. Those people are somewhere in-between on the romantic spectrum. Make sense?”

Malia nods slowly. “And you think I’m aromantic? Okay. I’ll think about it.”

“Good,” Lydia says, satisfied. Then she turns on her side to daintily toss Malia’s dildo towards where the harness sits on a towel on the floor. “Don’t forget to clean that, by the way.”

Malia scowls. “Of course I do, _Mom_. Thanks for officially killing the afterglow.” She groans luxuriously and sits up to stretch, back popping. Brushing hair out of her eyes, Malia hunts around the room for her panties. It seemed like a good idea at the time when she threw them off in her haste to wiggle into her harness, but now she curses her horny, hormone-addled brain.

“Here.”

Malia turns and gets a faceful of her underwear. She pulls them on, wrinkling her nose at the residual dampness. Lydia has a strict rule of three hours of studying for every hour of fucking, which means three hours of buzzing arousal without any alleviation. It’s one of the downsides to spending her evenings at Lydia’s house. The only downside, actually, since the orgasms never disappoint. “Ugh, thanks. See you on Monday?”

“Sure. You seeing anyone else this weekend?”

Malia pauses thoughtfully. “Maybe Boyd if he and Erica are on a break. I don’t remember if they are.”

“I’m pretty sure Erica wouldn’t mind if it was all three of you,” points out Lydia, wiggling her eyebrows. “But, yeah, I think they broke up on Friday, so you probably have today before they make up on Sunday. Be safe.”

“I always am.” Malia rolls her eyes, yanking on her jeans and pulling over her shirt without bothering to put on her bra first. What’s the point? If tonight plays out as planned, she won’t be needing it in an hour. Instead, she stuffs it into her backpack.

Next, she grabs her dildo and slips into Lydia’s bathroom to scrub it thoroughly. Once Malia satisfactorily deems it clean enough until she can go home and boil it, she tosses the dildo and harness into her bag too and hoists it over her shoulder. “Where are my—oh!” She successfully jangles her keys with a grin. “Later.”

Lydia blows her a goodbye kiss.

* * *

Malia does end up at Boyd’s later that night. In her defense, it was barely 9 o’clock when she left Lydia’s. Plus, she finished all her homework there, and Stiles texted earlier that he was busy, which meant his weed stash was out. What else could Malia do to entertain herself on a Saturday night?

She thinks Boyd can tell she’s distracted because he interrupts their makeout session four times to ask if she’s okay and that they don’t have to do anything if she doesn’t want to.

“Just fuck me,” Malia demands fiercely when Boyd shows signs of pulling away yet again.

“Are you sure—”

Malia cuts Boyd off with a filthy kiss, sucking on his tongue and unbuttoning the button of his jeans. At least Little Boyd, an ironic nickname seeing as he’s anything but, seems to be into it. “If you don’t get your dick out in five seconds, I’m leaving,” she mumbles into his mouth, grinding down with her hips. “Actually, I’ll probably stay and just pout because I don’t wanna go home, but you know what I mean.”

Boyd moans into her mouth and peels off his pants as fast as he can.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Malia snickers, pleased with herself. She strips off her own shirt, shucks off her jeans and underwear, and gasps when Boyd cups her breasts. He thumbs her breasts and nips at her neck while she clings to him. She yelps when his hands sneak under her ass to heft her up.

“This will never not be hot,” Malia smirks, wrapping her legs around his torso when Boyd stands. “You should _definitely_ —”

“I’m not fucking you against a wall,” Boyd grunts as he walks them to his room. “Remember last time we tried? You almost got a concussion when I dropped you. And hush, we’re passing Alicia’s room.”

Malia obediently holds her tongue until Boyd closes his door. When he lays her on his bed, Malia sighs at the familiar scratch of cotton. She reaches between her legs to slip in a couple fingers while Boyd putters around.

“You got a condom? I think I’m all out.” Boyd mournfully shakes the empty cardboard box.

“Smallest pocket in my bag,” moans Malia, fingers pumping faster and thumb circling her clit.

Boyd swallows, licking her lips. “The bag we left in the living room?”

“Hurry back,” Malia exhales breathily. She lets her eyes flutter close, her mouth drop open, her back arch off the mattress.

“I can’t believe I ran through my house naked with an erection for you,” Boyd hisses when he returns, leaping onto the bed. He catches a sniggering Malia into his arms when the bed dips and rolls her towards him.

“How will I ever repay you, my hero?” Malia bats her eyelashes, biting back a laugh.

“I can think of a couple ways.” Boyd presses their bodies flush together, bare skin brushing. Sparks skitter down Malia’s spine. His big hands skim gently over her skin, down her sides and along her thighs.

Malia nods, kissing her way down Boyd’s body. Her tongue outlines the smooth ridges of his chest and stomach. “Uh huh, I’m listening.”

* * *

 

“I think I might be aromantic,” Malia pants later, clambering off Boyd’s thighs and slumping onto the mattress beside him. She contentedly rests a hand on her stomach, basking in the satisfaction of feeling thoroughly fucked out.

“I’m honestly not that surprised,” Boyd comments, getting up to tie off and throw away the condom. He returns a moment later to shoo Malia onto her feet so he can peel back the sheets. “You staying the night? My parents won’t be back until noon tomorrow at least.”

Malia flops gratefully onto the bed in response.

Boyd chuckles fondly and climbs in after her, pulling up the comforter around their shoulders. “So what brought on your enlightenment?”

Malia likes the deep cadence of Boyd’s voice, the firm feeling of his chest under her cheek. But she doesn’t feel any of the things Allison or Lydia have described about being with Scott or Jackson. There are no stomach butterflies or dry throats or sweaty palms. Malia’s throat feels a little raw, but she thinks it’s safe to assume that’s more from deepthroating Boyd’s dick and moaning like a pornstar than any romantic synapses firing in her brain.

“Lydia says I have a lot of sex, but don’t go on enough dates.” Grateful that Boyd doesn’t say anything, Malia plucks up the courage to add, “I said it’s because I don’t know anyone worth dating, and she said that means I’m aromantic.”

“If that’s what you feel like identifying as, that’s okay,” Boyd murmurs sleepily, rubbing Malia’s back in soothing circles. “And if you change your mind later, that’s okay too.”

Malia hides a smile into Boyd’s skin, body relaxing against his as exhaustion seeps into her muscles. “Okay.”

* * *

A couple weeks later sees Malia skidding haphazardly into the school library after school, bag falling off her shoulder as she mutters a drawn out, “ _Fuck_ ,” under her breath. She slows to a halt at the doors, catches her breath, and cautiously cracks them open. She slips in as quietly as she can, but winces when she sees a pissed off Lydia zero in on her.

Busted.

“Sorry,” Malia whispers, feeling thoroughly chastised even though Lydia has yet to say a word. “I got caught up in something.” And by something, she means Isaac’s dick. She discreetly adjusts her shirt; she didn’t have time to put her bra back on before she had to book it from the boy’s locker room. Malia just hopes Lydia doesn’t realize her lips are puffy and red from giving head. “I know we said at three, but—”

“But it’s almost four-thirty,” interjects Lydia coolly. “Luckily, Kira was early, so we’ve been busy.”

For the first time, Malia looks at the girl sitting at the same table as Lydia and promptly feels her mouth go dry. The girl is beautiful with dark hair and brown eyes and plush lips. She smiles shyly at Malia, who feels her heart skip a beat at the thought of what she could do to that mouth.

Lydia snickers knowingly at Malia’s dumbstruck face. “Malia, this is Kira. She’s from New York. Kira, this is Malia. I tutor her every Monday and Wednesday here in the library right after school, an hour before you.”

“But you’re welcome to join us,” Malia cuts in, finding her voice at last and aiming her best sultry smile at Kira. She shifts forward, leaning her elbows on the table to gaze up at Kira through her lashes.

Kira goes bright red and squeaks out, “I-I’d love to. Mondays and Wednesdays? Count me in. Not like I’ve got anything better to do. Oh God, now you think I’m a loser. Sorry, someone please make me stop talking.” She claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and mortified.

Malia beams, hopelessly charmed. Something warm bubbles in her chest. “Awesome.” She drags out a chair and plops down in it. “So, what’re we working on?”

“Math,” Lydia says, eyes narrowing. “Page one-eighty-nine. Derivatives of trig functions. Problems one through twenty-five, odds only.”

Malia instantly screws up her face, but sneaks a glance at Kira and obediently retrieves her textbook from her bag.

Lydia raises her eyebrows. Usually, it takes her at least a minute of wheedling and promises of sex to get Malia to even unzip her backpack. Her eyebrows stretch further towards her hairline when she catches Malia minutely scooting her chair closer to Kira’s and leaning into the other girl’s space to point at something on the page.

How interesting.

* * *

“You like Kira.” It slips out of Lydia’s mouth sounding like an accusation when Lydia finds Malia in the school parking lot after having walked Kira outside to wait for Mrs. Yukimura to pick her up.

“Should I not?”

“No,” Lydia huffs, “you _like_ like her. As in, you want to date her.”

Malia stiffens, crosses her arms over her chest, and hunches her shoulders defensively. “I don’t know.”

Lydia’s face softens, and she reaches out for Malia. “It’s alright, you know, not to know. Maybe you aren’t aro like I thought. Maybe you’re a grey aro. Don’t worry. You’ll figure it out.”

Malia glances down at where Lydia loosely linked their fingers. She squeezes Lydia’s hand, but remains silent.

* * *

“Scott,” Malia groans. And for once, it’s not a sexy groan. Unless someone out there finds soul-crushing despair sexy. You never know. Malia has found weirder things on the Internet in search of porn.

“Malia,” Scott mock groans back, eyes never leaving the AP Bio homework he forgot to do. He chews on the end of his pencil.

Malia leans into his space, chin resting on his shoulder. “I need help.”

“So I gathered,” Scott replies distractedly. “Hey, what are three properties of water? Adhesion, cohesion, and—”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Malia steamrolls over him. “So you know that new girl Kira?”

* * *

“Hmm? Oh yeah, she’s cute. Wait, it’s hydrogen bonds. Uh, what about her?”

“That’s the problem.” Malia makes a face. “If she were ugly, everything would be fine.”

“Uh huh, curse Kira and her attractive face,” mutters Scott, flipping over his worksheet and grumbling when he sees it has a backside. “How does water potential relate to transpiration in plants?” His pencil scribbles furiously even as he asks her.

“All those times I laughed at Allison for mooning over you, and now look at me,” Malia whines forlornly.

“Water moves from areas of positive water potential to areas of negative water potential,” Scott mumbles as he writes. “Or was it the other way around?”

“So much for being aromantic, I guess,” sighs Malia. “I really think I might want to date Kira. Like, I want to have sex with her too, of course, but I also wouldn’t mind just kissing or holding hands. Is that weird?”

“Nope,” Scott announces after sifting through his notes and discovering he was correct the first time. Damn, he’s totally nailing this AP Bio thing. He moves onto the last question: _Do external factors such as heat, wind, or humidity affect transpiration rates? Explain._

“Good.” Malia says, relieved. “Maybe I’ll ask her out next time I see her. What do you think?”

“Totally,” Scott enthusiastically declares to his paper, jotting down his answer.

“Really? Alright then.” Malia claps him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Scotty. I don’t know why Lydia swears you give horrible advice. See you around.”

* * *

“So,” Malia winks, sliding into the seat across from Kira, “come here often?”

Kira giggles. “Every Monday and Wednesday, as a matter of fact. Same as the last couple months.”

“Alright, Mondays and Wednesdays are out, but how about Fridays?”

“What about Fridays?” Kira tips her head, but her pink cheeks belie her feigned ignorance.

“Are you doing anything?” Malia presses. “More specifically, this Friday.”

“I-nothing, no.” Kira’s eyes have gone wide.

“Then, would you like to grab dinner?” Malia tries to keep her voice steady and bites her bottom lip in the way she knows makes most guys hard in half a second flat.

Kira doesn’t drop her panties right there like Malia would’ve liked, but her face brightens into a megawatt smile that Malia deems an acceptable substitute.

* * *

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” Kira admits when Malia pulls up to her house after burgers and milkshakes at Malia’s favorite diner.

Malia had been a little disappointed when obscene wrapping her lips around her straw didn’t seemed to faze Kira at all. Mostly Kira just gave her odd looks then offered a napkin when Malia switched tactics and tried salaciously licking the ketchup off her fingers instead. Halfway through, Malia had given up her master plan of seduction and focused on the way Kira’s eyes lit up when Malia asked her if she had any hobbies. Malia might not have known who Kate Bishop or Steve Rogers were, but that didn’t hinder her in the slightest from enjoying the sound of Kira’s voice.

Now, Kira turns toward Malia, who feels her lungs tighten at the moonlight limning Kira’s face.

“Me too,” Malia smiles, leaning forward. Her eyes drop purposefully to Kira’s lips before darting up to gauge her reaction. Time for phase two of her master plan. She parts her own lips, licks them. “I really like you, Kira.”

Kira’s eyelids flutter, her throat bobbing when she swallows nervously. “I like you too.”

Malia carefully cards her hand through Kira’s hair, cups her face. “Can I kiss you?”

“Um, yeah,” Kira murmurs into the pocket they’ve created for just the two of them, where their breaths mingle.

Malia swoops in without a second thought, but keeps the kiss soft and chaste. As much as she wants to absolutely wreck Kira’s mouth, Malia knows she should test the waters first. This isn’t an Erica- or Jackson-kiss, a dime-a-dozen kiss. This is a first kiss. This feels more important, like a hundred fragile things hang in the balance of this kiss. So Malia holds herself back from chasing the sweet taste of Kira’s mouth and savors it.

Kira pulls back slowly, eyes flickering open. A slight flush still stains her cheeks when she smiles bashfully. “Wow.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Malia concurs. First kiss successful, she leans forward over the car console to crush their mouths together again. Delicacy flies out the window when the kiss turns hot and heavy. Malia sucks on Kira’s tongue, nips her bottom lip. The hand not in Kira’s hair finds its way to Kira’s thigh. It’s just about to sneak under the hem of her skirt when the light on the porch flicks on. That wouldn’t normally dissuade Malia from a quickie in the car, but the stern-looking figure stalking towards them sure does.

“Fuck,” Malia groans, dropping back into the driver’s seat from where she’d been seconds away from clambering into Kira’s lap. She repeatedly bangs her forehead against the steering wheel while Kira, dazed, looks over her shoulder and yelps.

“M-Mom, fancy meeting you here.” Kira’s voice sounds shrill enough to break glass or at least double as a dog whistle.

“Really, Kira?” Mrs. Yukimura asks, severely eyeing Kira’s smeared lipgloss and disheveled hair through the rolled down car window. “You’re surprised to see your mother in front of your own home?”

Kira decides to cut her losses and just change the subject. “Um, Mom, this Malia. Malia, this is my mom.”

“Hi, Mrs. Yukimura.” Malia gives a cheeky little wave, meeting Mrs. Yukimura’s sour glare head on. She doesn’t feel at all shy about her shirt slipping off one shoulder or her kiss-swollen lips. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what they were doing, so Malia figures why bother to hide it?

“It’s past Kira’s curfew,” is all Mrs. Yukimura deigns to say before whirling on her heel and storming back towards the house.

“Oh my God, I might actually die.” Kira hides her face in her hands while Malia rolls the window back up, but not before sticking her tongue out at Mrs. Yukimura’s back. “That was so embarrassing.”

“If I knew I was meeting your parents tonight, I would’ve worn something nicer,” Malia jokes, gesturing to her denim cutoffs and ‘NO FUCKBOYS ALLOWED’ croptop.

Kira tries to glare, but can’t keep her lips from twitching in amusement. “Oh, shut up”

“So,” Malia grasps Kira’s hand when she reaches for the door handle, “can I see you again?”

Kira smiles down at their intertwined fingers. “I’d really like that.”

* * *

“So, is the new girl any good in the sack?” Erica asks, admiring her reflection in her tiny handheld mirror she’s using to touch up her makeup. She’s been trying to even out her winged eyeliner for ages.

“I wouldn’t know,” grouses Malia, squirming on the hard metal bleachers in an attempt to find a comfortable position that doesn’t murder her back. The bright morning sunlight hits her square in the eyes, and she hisses at it.

“You didn’t get in her pants?” Erica stares incredulously at Malia.

“Not for lack of trying,” Malia grumbles, throwing her arm over her face. Just as she starts to feel drowsiness prodding her consciousness, a piercing whistle cuts through to jolt her awake.

Erica cackles. “I don’t know what’s funnier, you not fucking the new girl or you failing to fuck her.”

“Shut the fuck up.” So it’s not her most clever comeback ever, but in her defense, it’s eight o’clock on a freaking Sunday. Malia should be sleeping off her hangover from Jackson’s rager last night, not at school. Malia scowls at the lacrosse field, more specifically at Coach Finstock, who’s disturbingly perky despite the fact it’s the asscrack of dawn. “Maybe I want more than just sex from Kira. Did your tiny brain ever consider that?”

That just makes Erica guffaw harder, and Malia kicks her off the bleachers. But they’re in the first row, so Erica doesn’t even stop wheezing when she hits the ground.

“You alright, babe?” Boyd asks in concern when Finstock gives the lacrosse team a water break and he sees Erica sitting on the ground with a wild grin.

“If by ‘alright’ you mean ‘a gigantica asswipe,’ then she’s peachy keen,” Malia grumps, sitting up herself so Stiles can flop down next to her and gulp his water.

“I’m _amazing_ now that I know Malia—our uninhibited seductress, Malia—couldn’t get the new girl to put out,” grins Erica. “Actually, I’m always amazing, but you know what I mean.”

“Really?” Scott shoots Malia a surprised look. Malia would normally be flattered, but she’s too busy trying to attempt homicide with the sheer power of her mind.

Isaac snickers, and Malia throws him a baleful look.

“Maybe she’s just not a sex-on-the-first-date type,” offers Boyd placatingly.

“There are people who don’t have sex on the first date?” Malia scrunches her face in confusion.

“Um, yes.” Now Scott looks confused too, like an adorable, crooked-jawed puppy. “Lots of people wait for months to have sex.”

“Why?”

Scott, like the sappy romantic he is, opens his mouth for a long-winded explanation of societal norms when it comes to first times when Malia adds, “I’ve had sex on all of my first dates.”

“You’ve only had one,” Liam points out helpfully. “Well, two. So technically that statement is only half true.”

Scott pauses. “Wait, Stiles you slept with Malia on your guys’ first date?” He gives his best friend a scandalized look.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?” Stiles winces, scratching the back of his neck.

“Why are we all discussing my dating life anyways?” Malia makes a face.

“Because you haven’t had one since Stiles!” Erica exclaims in a ‘duh’ voice. “It’s exciting, okay? Just let us have this.”

“What’s exciting?”

Malia almost topples off the bleachers at the sound of Kira’s voice. “Kira!” She rights herself and stands up, vividly aware of everyone’s eyes on them. “What’re you doing here?”

“Trying out for the lacrosse team,” chirps Kira with a smile.

Malia may or may not sigh dreamily.

“You’re a little late.” Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Practice started, like, an hour ago.”

“Sorry.” Kira tugs nervously at her shirt. “I could’ve sworn Jackson said nine, so I got here a half hour early, but then I saw all of you guys already out here. Is it too late?”

“That asshole,” Malia growls, starting to stand. “I’ll fucking rip his—”

“You’re fine,” Scott assures her with a kind smile while Stiles elbows Malia hard enough to knock the wind from her lungs. “C’mon, I’ll take you to Coach Finstock and get this all figured out.”

“If you wanna get on Coach’s good side, don’t forget to call him cupcake,” Stiles chimes in.

Kira gives him quizzical look, clearly not sure if Stiles is joking or not. “Thanks.” Kira glances hesitantly towards Malia. “Um, hi, Malia.”

Malia knows Kira is too shy to initiate anything and smirks. She steps forward, bends down to kiss Kira, and finds Kira’s hips fit nicely under her palms. Kira’s arms wrap loosely around her neck.

“Hi,” Kira repeats when the two separate, face tomato-red at the sound of Erica wolf whistling.

“Hi.” Malia pecks Kira’s cheek. “I didn’t know you played lacrosse.”

“Yeah, it’s just a weird hobby I picked up when I was a kid. Kinda crazy how it just happens to be the most popular sport here. How come you’re here?”

“My dad needed the car today, but me and Stiles have to get to work right after practice, so he’s my ride.”

Kira nods in understanding. “Hey, about the other night, I just wanted—”

“Bukimura!” bellows Finstock from where Scott stands next to him with a mutinous-looking Jackson.

Kira looks around with a face that clearly says she’s not sure if she heard right.

“That’s you, Kira,” Stiles explains.

“And the rest of you lazy bums get over here too!”

“And that’s us,” sighs Boyd. Isaac groans, but dutifully hauls himself to his feet. “C’mon.”

“You are _so_ into her,” Erica announces with delight while the lacrosse players jog towards Finstock and huddle up.

“That is _so_ none of your business, but she is hot,” Malia nods in agreement, wistfully watching Kira’s ass as the boys escort her away. _And sweet. And nice. And beautiful._

* * *

Malia: **U free 2nite?**

Kira reads and rereads the text, eternally thankful that Malia can’t see how embarrassingly huge her smile is. It’s not her fault; back in New York, no one ever looked twice at Kira. Therefore, Kira is allowed to be a loser who freaks out about a pretty girl talking to her. Repeatedly. By choice.

“Be cool, be cool,” Kira mutters to herself.

Kira: **Yes. Where do you want to go?**

Malia: **its a secret i’ll pick u up at 10**

Kira bites her lip indecisively. Her curfew is at 11 on weeknights, which means Malia either has a really short date planned or expects Kira to sneak out. Kira has never snuck out of the house before. She peers at her bedroom window. She can probably fit through that, right?

Kira: **I’ll meet you at the end of my street.**

Malia: **sweet c u l8r**

Kira puts down her phone and stares down determinedly at her English homework. If she’s going out, it’s now or never to finish her essay. She really doesn’t want a C in the class.

* * *

“I don’t know about this, Malia,” Kira says for the fifth time when Malia finally pulls into the packed parking lot at 11 o’clock sharp.

She already repeated this four times in the car, so Malia is an old hand at offering Kira an encouraging smile. “Relax, it’ll be fine. I’ve done this a thousand times. Hayden never fails. She always gets me in, no problem.”

“I’m a terrible dancer, and I’m not even wearing clubbing clothes,” Kira protests, gesturing to her leggings and comfy hoodie, but it sounds halfhearted, “because _someone_ didn’t tell me where we were going.”

Putting the gear shift into park, Malia gets out of the car and walks around to open Kira’s door. “Kira.” She takes both of Kira’s hands in her own and brings them to her lips. “You look great. Like, all the time.”

“I’ve never done something like this,” confesses Kira, worrying her bottom lip nervously.

“I can tell.” Malia hides her smile against Kira’s temple, presses a brief kiss there. “C’mon, I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. But, if you really don’t want to…”

“I—” Kira cranes her neck to look at Malia’s hopeful face and melts. “Okay. We’re already here, what the heck.”

“That’s the spirit,” crows Malia with a crooked grin. She victoriously fist pumps with Kira’s wrists still in her grasp. A group of snotty-looking girls in mile-high heels totters by. They sneer down their noses at the two of them with their hands waving in the air like idiots. Kira laughs good naturedly anyways, chest fluttery.

* * *

After a crabby-faced Hayden opens the back door for them, Malia snags a couple shots off her serving tray with a wink. Despite Hayden glaring daggers, Malia catches Hayden eyeing her boobs and smirks. Then she clinks glasses with Kira in lieu of attempting to shout over the pounding bass and deafening music that shake the club.

Kira stares wide-eyed at the clear liquid, but Malia shouts, “You can leave it on a table if you don’t want it!” Kira does, letting out a relieved breath.

Before the burn of the vodka can fade from her throat, Malia attempts to drag Kira onto the dance floor. Kira puts up a fight, babbling half-formed excuses until Malia firmly cuts her off. “Dance with me, dumbass.” Finally, Kira reluctantly moves toward the writhing, gyrating mass of sweaty people in the center of the club.

So Kira really wasn’t kidding when she said she couldn’t dance to save her life, but Malia finds it hopelessly endearing anyways. Malia bounces to the music and bites back a grin at Kira’s awkward jerks and spasms. It’s so fucking cute, damn it. But Malia finally takes pity on her poor, rhythmless girlfriend.

She tugs Kira towards her until their hips press flush against each other. Malia drags her teeth against Kira’s earlobe, flicking her tongue out. Her breath ghosts against Kira’s neck. “Try it more like this.” The music pulses around them as Malia guides Kira’s waist in a smooth side-to-side motion.

Once Kira finds the beat, she beams up at Malia. The flashing lights paint her face red, purple, and blue; her white shirt almost glows in the dark. Kira runs her hand through her hair, long black strands cascading down her back. It’s enough to give Malia whiplash; when did her self-conscious, bumbling Kira suddenly become so sexy?

Emboldened by an abrupt rush of desire, Malia shimmies down Kira’s body to trail lascivious kisses down Kira’s collar to her breasts. Her hands slip into Kira’s back pocket to cup her ass. Her thumbs tease the waistline of Kira’s jeans, the warm skin under her shirt. Malia drops her head to nose along Kira’s neck, suck a dark bruise onto the delicate skin.

The hard, throbbing beat makes it easy for Malia to roll their hips together in a dirty grind that has Kira’s breath hitching. But then the song crossfades into something slower and smoky. Kira’s arms wind around her neck, and Malia slows their movements to a gentle sway. Her hands retreat to their proper place on Kira’s waist. Kira keeps her eyes timidly on her scuffed sneakers until Malia nudges her face up with a finger on her chin and seals their lips together. Their noses brush; their foreheads bump.

“I know it’s not really your scene, but are you having a good time?” Malia still has to all but shout for Kira to even have a chance of hearing her.

“I am.” Kira’s eyes gleam in the low light.

That same warm _something_ gurgles happily in her gut again, and Malia smooches the corner of Kira’s upturned lips. “Good. Are you thirsty? We can grab some drinks.”

Kira nods, and Malia leads the way to the edge of the throng of dancing people. She has to elbow and growl at a few people, but she manages to safely pull Kira towards an empty table. “Be right back.” Malia returns a few minutes later with two cokes in hand. Kira blinks in surprise. “Sorry.” Malia slides one of the glasses towards her. “The bartender wouldn’t give me anything alcoholic even with my fake ID.”

“I think I’ll live,” Kira chuckles, appreciatively swirling her straw through the ice. “Alcohol’s not really my thing.”

“That’s cool. And the bartender’s Hayden’s friend, so he won’t rat us out.” Malia takes a thoughtful sip of her soda. “Probably.”

“Hey, Malia, I didn’t know you were swinging by tonight. Oh, and you brought a friend.” Kira turns to see a blond-haired man smiling at Malia, who’s gone stiff. She opens her mouth to ask Malia who her friend is when he continues, “You two interested in having some fun tonight?”

Kira’s jaw drops, gaze whipping between Malia and the guy. She splutters and scooches a little closer to Malia. Some random dude did not just walk up and proposition a threesome, did he? What a creep. She wishes she had the forethought to grab her handy pepper spray before she left.

Malia’s eyes narrow. “No, Tom, me and my _girlfriend_ aren’t interested.”

Tom throws back his head in a laugh. “Damn, never thought I’d see the day Malia Tate got a girlfriend, let alone turned down sex. Did Hell freeze over? Is it because you couldn’t get into her pants as fast as expected?”

“Malia,” Kira says uneasily, stomach swooping unpleasantly, “what’s going on?”

Tom’s amused eyes flick between the two girls. He leers, “Why, don’t you know Malia is the local slut? Everyone who’s anyone knows she’s a quick, easy fuck.”

Kira goes pale.

“Shut the fuck up, Tom!” snarls Malia, springing to her feet. She casts a worried look towards Kira only to see an empty chair. “Kira?” Her eyes scan the room, squinting in the dark until she glimpses Kira’s retreating back slipping out the back exit.

She scrambles to follow, flipping off Tom as she goes. Malia struggles through the crowded club and has to shove aside half a dozen people before she bursts through the doors and into the cool night air. “Kira?” she calls, craning her neck and shouting, “Kira!” when she spots her wayward girlfriend. She hurries to where Kira sits on the sidewalk curb, slowing down when she gets near like she’s approaching a skittish animal. “Can I, uh, can I sit down?”

“I guess,” Kira sniffles, discreetly trying to wipe her nose.

“Look,” Malia begins, making a face when the back of her thigh touches something sticky on the ground, “don’t listen to Tom. He’s such a douche—”

“Is it true?” demands Kira suddenly. She turns to look at Malia, eyes red and puffy from crying.

Malia bristles, fists clenching at her side. “Yes, it’s true.”

“Oh.” Kira visibly deflates, shoulders wilting and hair curtaining her lowered face.

“I’m not ashamed of being a whore,” Malia snaps, eyes flashing. She juts her chin defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with liking sex, so if you have a problem with how I live my life—”

“Not that,” Kira interjects with a frown. She dabs at her eyes, grimacing at the black eyeliner that stains her fingers. “I don’t care if you’ve had sex.”

“Even if it’s a lot?” Malia asks in a small voice. She wasn’t lying when she said she isn’t remorseful for her sex life. All of her friends have been very supportive about it, have made sure no one says anything to Malia while they’re around. But Malia knows plenty of people sneer down at her for it, even though, ironically, she’s probably fucked half of them. However, sometimes she can’t help but wonder how Kira could react, if it would disgust her.

“Even then,” Kira affirms. She makes an aborted movement, as if she wants to reach out to squeeze Malia’s hand. At the last second, she curls her fingers away and tucks them neatly into her lap. “It’s who you are.”

Malia feels a huge, invisible weight lift from her shoulders.

“But,” Kira looks away from Malia, “if all this was just to sleep with me, I don’t think I can see you anymore.” She tries not to let her face show how devastating the very thought is. Kira thinks back to the very first time she saw Malia in the school library, messy-haired and wildly beautiful. She takes a deep breath despite the fact her ribs feel on the verge of collapsing.

“It wasn’t,” Malia reassures her quickly, scooting closer. “Kira, it wasn’t, okay? I mean, at first, I noticed you because of how hot you are, but who wouldn’t? It’s more than that now. I’m okay with waiting until you’re ready, I swear.”

“That’s just it,” Kira hiccups as the tears roll down her cheeks, which burn with shame. Her voice wobbles. “I’m never going to be ready. Malia, I’m asexual. I’m never going to want to sleep with you. I know that’s messed up, but I thought maybe I could try if it would make you happy—”

“No,” Malia says sternly, seeing red at the self-disgust in Kira’s tone. “Kira, you should never do something you don’t want to do for someone else. Not sex or weed or anything. If you don’t want sex, then we won’t have sex. Period. You deserve better than that.”

“But—”

“But nothing.” Malia’s face softens, and she reaches out to cup Kira’s cheek. “And you kind of look like a racoon right now, but you’re still the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.”

Kira covers her face with her hands, laughter bubbling up despite herself. “Oh my God, don’t look at me.”

Malia snickers, leaning over so they’re pressed together knee to shoulder. She throws her arms around Kira’s shoulders and loudly smacks a wet kiss onto the side of Kira’s face. “And I’m the lucky-ass girl who gets to date you. You do still want to, right?”

“Of course.” Kira shyly brushes her lips against the corner of Malia’s mouth.

“So, this was pretty exciting for a second date, huh?”

“Can’t wait for our next one.”

* * *

Their third date involves less crying and slut-shaming, and ultimately ends up significantly better. It takes a couple weeks because Kira’s mom grounds her after catching Kira trying to climb back into her room through her window at one in the morning. But when the two finally do go, Kira takes Malia to her favorite sushi bar where Malia discovers a deep love for sashimi that might rival her love for venison.

Before they know it, the seasons start to change—at least, as much as they change in northern California. It takes a couple weeks, but Kira finally stops giggling whenever Malia complains about sixty degrees being “fucking cold, damn it!” while Kira skips around in shorts and a tank top. Malia _definitely_ doesn’t complain about seeing her girlfriend in ass-hugging denim every day.

Malia also valiantly doesn’t complain about her blue balls.

In Kira’s presence.

When it comes to her friends, it’s a whole other story.

“Lydiaaaaaa,” groans Malia, shoving her face into her textbook she’s pretending to read.

“Maliaaaaaa,” mimicks Lydia without looking up from her math homework.

“I know I said I was okay with Kira and her asexual thing—and I am!—but this is really hard. And not in the good way,” pouts Malia, lifting her head. “I have never used my vibrator this much before. I think I might be getting calluses on my vagina.”

“Have you tried talking to her about it?” Lydia meticulously scratches out another equation with her pencil.

“I don’t think Kira wants to know about my callused vagina.”

Lydia levels an unamused look at Malia and dryly replies, “I can imagine. Have you tried talking to her about your sexual frustration?”

Malia balks. “Did you miss the part where Kira’s ace? It means she doesn’t like sex, remember? Which applies to talking about it.”

“Does it, though?” Lydia puts down her calculator to fix Malia with a serious expression. “Some aces don’t mind sex even if they don’t feel sexual attraction. Some aces even like sex, although we already know Kira isn’t one of those. But you two should still talk about it. Kira wants you to be happy just as much as you want her to be. Maybe you can find a compromise. I think monogamy is overrated anyway.”

Malia bolts upright, textbook toppling to the ground. “Are you saying  this whole entire time I could’ve been having mind-blowing sex while dating Kira and you _just_ brought it up?” Malia squints distrustfully. “Is this because I failed my last math quiz?”

“No, it’s because I don’t devote my brilliant brain to constantly devising ways to improve your relationship,” Lydia snarks back. She innocently returns to boxing her answers on her multivariable calculus homework. “And maybe a little for that C minus. We prepared so hard for that unit quiz, damn it.”

“I’d usually get mad at you, but that would waste so much time I could be using to ask Kira when we can meet—oh good, she’s free now. Thanks a ton; later, Lydia!”

* * *

“So what do you think?”

Kira frowns as she mulls it over, fingers tapping restlessly on her phone case.

“If you’re not okay with it, just say so,” Malia promises sincerely, even though her clitoris kind of shrivels up and dies a little bit. “I won’t be upset. I know our—this— _us_ is new. I don’t want to ruin it over something stupid. I just was wondering if you were, uh, interested.”

“Well, you’re telling me you want to see other people, so I’m not really getting good vibes here, Malia,” Kira admits unhappily, furrowing her brow. She crosses her arms over her chest.

“Not see them,” Malia reasserts, cupping Kira’s face with her hands. “I want to sleep with them, but you would always be my number one. My main bae.”

Kira doesn’t laugh or even smile.

“Look, before I met you, Kira, I thought I was aromantic. You made me realize I’m not. Or, at least I’m grey-aro. You make me feel things I never thought I’d feel.” Malia rests her forehead against Kira’s, rubs their noses together. “Sex is fine, but it’s not special. You, Kira Yukimura, you’re special. If sleeping around is going to make you feel like you’re not, then I won’t. It’s that easy. Well, it won’t be easy, but I didn’t choose you because I thought this would be easy.”

Kira remains silent for a moment before mumbling, “For a self-proclaimed aro, that was sure romantic as heck.”

Malia smiles. “That’s good, right?”

“Okay,” Kira relents, winding her arms around Malia’s neck. “Okay, we’ll try it. But I get veto rights if it doesn’t work out. And you can’t cancel our date nights to have sex.”

“As if! I’m offended you think I would stoop so low as to—”

“Malia, you once bailed because Stiles said he scored a new brand of kush he wanted to try.”

“Ah, I was hoping you’d forget that.”

* * *

Malia starts slow; she doesn’t think Kira will mind too much if she goes out and fucks the whole school that very same night, but Malia figures she shouldn’t push her luck. She texts Lydia first, but then gets on Instagram and sees she and Jackson are out getting dinner at some fancy Italian place to celebrate the current ‘on’ status in their on-and-off- relationship. Malia makes a face and scrolls through the rest of her contact list.

Boyd and Erica are out.

Scott has an AP Bio exam tomorrow.

Liam is going through a sexuality crisis with Mason. Not surprising, if a little inconvenient.

Which only leaves…

**hey wanna fuck?**

**What about Kira?**

**Wat abt her? shes chill**

**Then sure.**

**c u in 20**

Malia and Isaac aren’t particularly close. It usually makes sex easy because neither of them give a fuck that they’re fucking; there’s no intimate friendship to ruin with awkwardness. It’s just two people who wanna get off with each other. But it makes things weirder before and after. Hence, Isaac being her last choice. But, hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

And damn, Malia has never been this desperate before.

She actually arrives at the McCall house in fifteen, but she doesn’t think anyone will mind. Mrs. McCall is still finishing her shift at the hospital, so Scott’s the one who answers the door. He blinks in surprise. “Malia?”

“Here.” Malia tosses him a pair of ear plugs, which he fumbles to catch.

When he finally gets a good look at them, Scott scowls. “Aw man, I have a test tomorrow. This really couldn’t wait?”

“It really can’t, which is why you have those.” Malia grins wickedly and pushes past. “Although, if you want to join us later, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Scott sighs resignedly and closes the door after her. “We’ll see. Believe it or not, studying the reproductive system doesn’t actually turn me on.”

* * *

 

Kira and Malia’s relationship isn’t all rainbows and butterflies after that. Kira has days when she hates the thought of Malia with anyone else, hates herself for not being able to give Malia what she craves. Malia has days where she struggles to parse her newfound romantic emotions, struggles with how someone like Kira could want like her.

But when they have each other, even the bad days don’t seem impossible. Malia takes a break from sex when she realizes Kira’s insecurity. She spends the next couple weeks doting her girlfriend and texting sappy pick up lines. Kira makes sure Malia knows that she appreciates all of Malia’s attempts at romantic gestures and doesn’t mind if Malia sometimes comes off as blunt or callous.

When they have each other, Kira thinks her life is better than rainbows and butterflies.


End file.
